Are you there, God? It's me, Sam Winchester
by Mischkia
Summary: Sam prays for Dean because John's a lousy father and someone finally listens.


Sam Winchester was not a man of faith. At least, not anymore. Whatever faith he once possessed was now long gone. No one was up there periodically listening in and going out of their way to help him out in his time of need, because if they were, they would have stepped in a long time ago.

Sam Winchester was not a man of faith, so why was he doing this? The answer was simple: he had no other option left, and talking it out (even if only with himself) might do him some good.

Sitting in the front row of the abandoned church, Sam closed his eyes and clasped his hands together firmly. He began to pray for the first time in ten years.

"Uh, hey… I'm not sure who's listening right now, if anyone is, really, but I'm worried about my brother, Dean," said Sam, his voice echoing in the hollow, cavernous room. "He's not doing too great."

Sam cracked an eye open, and then the other, and was immediately hit with a wave of embarrassment. He felt silly, naive even, for doing this. He laughed, the sound taking a self-deprecating undertone. If only Dean could see him now… He'd probably laugh in his face no doubt. Tell him how stupid this was and remind him that there was no one up there, that no one cared, that it was just them, and even if there were someone up there, then why bother when they obviously didn't care.

Sam closed his eyes again and straightened up, mentally shaking himself. He had to at least try. If not for himself, then for Dean.

He tried again, deciding to start from the beginning this time, "Dad's gone," then he stopped, laughing awkwardly. Dad was always gone. What was different this time-yeah, that's what mattered. He continued, clarifying, "Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days. We're not sure what exactly happened to him, but Dean says he was looking into some disappearances that all happened on the same stretch of road. I'm guessing something went wrong, and he got hurt or someone or some _thing_ caught him.

"Dean and I are headed there now, to Jericho. I'm just hoping we find him before it's too late, but you know, I don't see why Dean didn't just _go with him_. He's always trying to impress Dad, to show him he's worth something, to earn some kind of praise. It just figures the one time Dean isn't there to help him, Dad gets himself into trouble." Sam let out a long, heavy sigh. "Dean's _always_ cleaning up Dad's messes."

Sam hung his head then, dropping it into his now open palms. "I just wish Dean would get out now, while he still can." He sighed again, knowing that if Dean were here he'd tell him that being a hunter is not something you can just hit and quit like a one-night stand, that there is no escaping the lifestyle. Sam shook his head. If that were true, then explain how he spent all that time at Stanford without anything _supernatural_ occurring.

"I worry about him a lot. Dean, I mean. It's got to be ruining him, being with Dad. He's destroying Dean without Dean even realizing it. And every time I try to talk to Dean about it, he blows me off, saying, 'No chick-flick moments, Sammy.'" Sam snorted at that, rolling his eyes. "I honestly don't know what to do anymore. He won't let me in."

Sam let the silence drag for several moments too long before continuing, "So if anyone's up there listening: please, I could use some help."

Sam opened his eyes and reclined back in his seat, feeling a little better now that he had all that off his chest. He looked around, willing anyone or any _thing_ to show up and save him and his family before shit hit the fan like it always did.

He sat there for nearly fifteen minutes before finally allowing himself to acknowledge the fact that no one was coming. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and then stood up, straightening out his spine. He kept his head held high and shoulders up as he walked out of the church, like a defeated soldier going to war.

 **X**

Angels possessed the power of invisibility, so it was no wonder that Sam didn't notice him, that he saw right through him even while staring directly at him.

Gabriel sat on one of the rafters of the church. He absently kicked his legs in the air and fluttered his wings as he thought. Oh, how he wanted to help Sam. Knowing the youngest Winchester's future only fueled this desperate desire. The kid would be crushed when he got home to see Jess, no doubt about it, and unfortunately, Gabriel was forbidden from interfering.

It was a load of bullshit, Gabriel knew, but orders were orders and angels were angels, following commands like good little soldiers. Gabriel was so _sick_ of being Daddy's good little boy, and now with Him being absent from Heaven for so long, Gabriel was even more angered. Why bother when He wasn't even around? He obviously didn't care.

 _Sam was right_. He _didn't_ care. The thought hit him like a right hook to the jaw.

And now that Gabriel was thinking about it, who was there to stop him from doing what he wanted? Michael? Puh-lease. Michael was so oblivious. _Especially now_ , Gabriel thought. Especially now that he realized that all the angels were mindlessly obeying orders from… whom? Damn. You learn something new every day. If God wasn't doing it, then who were the orders coming from? Maybe Heaven was more corrupt than Gabriel had previously thought.

With that in mind, Gabriel thought of ways to make his escape. It would be easy. They didn't call him the Trickster for nothing. _Huh_ , Gabriel thought. _The Trickster_.

With a smirk on his face and a foolproof plan of action made, Gabriel left the church, the rhythmic flapping of wings leaving only an echo behind.


End file.
